Cold Coffee
by NernOAredhel
Summary: Tag on to 'Earthbreaker', so spoilers for Season 2. Scott and Grandma Tracy have a quiet moment the day after the traumatic first encounter with The Mechanic... One-Shot


(So I wasn't intending to leave it almost a year before uploading another fic, but life and uni got in the way, etc, so here we are! A little moment between Scott and Grandma Tracy post 'Earthbreaker', so spoilers for Season 2!)

Scott was sitting at the kitchen bar, facing the ocean. He was still, the only movement the rise and fall of his breathing. Grandma Tracy watched her eldest grandson from a distance. His grazed hands were wrapped around a mug, still full of coffee. This was a bad sign. Scott practically lived on the stuff, and now it was neglected, not so much as a tremor running over the surface from his still grip.

The day before had been a difficult one. Thunderbird Two was still being assessed in its hanger, the extent of the damage still not fully known, Virgil and Brains had been down there all morning. Virgil's escape had been a lucky one. A few minor injuries, but all things considered he'd been extremely fortunate. Scott had had a close call as well. He would never make a fuss of it, but he'd also nearly been killed by the Mechanic's machine. If Kayo hadn't managed to disable it when she did, well, who knows what might have happened.

Grandma Tracy approached him. He didn't even turn to see who had perched themselves on the stool beside him. The ocean breeze, sweet from mingling with the jasmine flowers by the pool, wafted through the open panoramic doors. Scott's gaze was far afield. Grandma Tracy sat in silence with him, looking out across the vast sea. Faint shouts and laughter could be heard from the floor above. Gordon and Alan were playing Zombie Apocalypse, with added cushion fights, winding each other up no doubt. It was their way of dealing with things, with a smile and a joke. For the eldest Tracy brother however, the burden of responsibility and a few extra years weighed heavy. Scott suddenly broke the silence.

'He could have died Grandma.' His voice was timid, almost childlike. Grandma Tracy rested her hand on his arm, being careful as she knew he was bruised all over from yesterday.

'I know.' She moved her thumb backwards and forwards gently over his wrist, both still gazing out beyond the horizon.

Eventually Grandma Tracy turned and looked at Scott. She wouldn't tell him, but he looked just like his father, they had the same defined jaw line, the same nose. His eyes were his mother's, but the lines around them, and the frown that often framed them were his father's. She even noticed a grey hair, just above his ear. She was surprised there weren't more given the nature of their job.

'No one ever said this job was easy.'

Scott's grip on the mug tightened. 'But that's just it Grandma, our job is supposed to be rescuing people and I can do that, but facing someone who's hell bent on destroying us, killing us…' His voice trailed off, along with his gaze which went to the coffee in the mug, the surface now violently disturbed from his sudden outburst. 'This wasn't how this was supposed to go.' He continued, his gaze still on the mug, the surface of the dark liquid settling slightly but still rippling.

He was right, no arguing with that. International Rescue was supposed to be just that, a rescue team that covered the globe and beyond. No matter where, no matter when. Grandma Tracy swivelled on her stool, taking Scott's arm in both of her hands, pulling a hand free from the mug, sending the surface of the coffee trembling once more.

'You're right. This isn't how this was supposed to go. None of this should be here, this house, these ships, nothing.'

Scott raised his head, facing Grandma Tracy with his trademark furrowed brow. 'What do you mean?' His voice was still a little timid.

'If everything had gone the way it was supposed to, then we'd all still be living on a ranch in Texas, your mother, your father. You'd still be in the Air Force, John would be in a NASA space suit, Virgil would probably be a concert pianist and Gordon and Alan, well, they'd be traipsing mud through the house instead of pool water. But that's not how it went.' She squeezed the hand she'd pried away from the mug, being careful of the grazes. 'Things went wrong.…' she paused registering the slightly bowed head and increasing frown of her eldest grandson. 'But there's one thing you can always be sure of.'

Scott lifted his head, his blue eyes met his grandmother's. 'Yeah?'

'Yeah. That no matter what, Tracys stick together, even if they can't all be together.' She raised her hand to his cheek. He placed his own hand on hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. His eyes were glistening a little.

'What if I can't do this, what if I can't defeat him?'

'You won't have to, because we'll deal with this we always deal with a problem. Together. As a team.'

Silence fell between them again for a few moments.

'I don't know how he did it.' Grandma Tracy didn't need to ask who Scott was referring to.

'You know he was always scared sick whenever you boys went out on a rescue.'

Scott's eyes flicked up, a look of surprise flashed through them. 'He never showed it.'

'No, because he didn't want you boys to be worried about him, worrying about you.' She gave Scott's hand another squeeze. 'Having courage doesn't mean you're not afraid, it just means that something else is more important than being afraid. You boys are far more important to him that any fear he ever faced. You're a great leader Scott.' She gently pulled his chin up, so his eyes met hers. 'But that doesn't mean you're not allowed to be afraid.'

Scott gave a small nod and sniffed, his eyes still glistening a little.

'You should have seen it Grandma, I really thought he was done for, I thought we both were.'

'I know sweetheart.' She stood and kissed his forehead. 'But you're here, you're both here and life is returning to normal.'

'Normal?' Scott managed a half smile.

'Well, Tracy normal, except one thing.' Grandma Tracy raised an eyebrow at Scott.

'What?'

'There's a mug of cold, untouched coffee on the table.'

Scott let out a small chuckle.

'How about we brew up another pot and see if Brains and Virgil need a little pick me up down there?'

'Sounds great Grandma, and thanks.' His smile was a grateful one, and it shone through those vivid, electric blue eyes.

Yes the eyes were his mother's, but that smile was his father's, not covering, but accepting the deep fears and worries with courage and a layer of charm. He was his father's son, and she couldn't be prouder.


End file.
